Grave Secrets (Manhunters 1)

Savannah squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath, but her body shook from the fight-or-flight rush. Her mind was jumbled with problems and fears. She wasn’t prepared to run with Jamison. She didn’t have new identities, and they’d never make it out of the state without them.

“Hey.” Misty put a hand on Savannah’s shoulder, breaking her out of the whirlwind of worries. “What can I do?”

Savannah shook her head. “I…I don’t know. I need to talk to Audrey. I need to think.”

The bell chimed as the local bridge group of eight older women pushed in.

Misty glanced out front. “If you get out of here before your shift’s over, you’ll miss Corwin. Get your feet back under you. I’ll come over when I’m done here. We’ll figure something out.”

Savannah pulled off her apron. “Thanks.”

She grabbed her car keys and her jacket and called Audrey on her way to the car. Her attorney didn’t answer, so Savannah left her a frantic message with the news as she slid into her car.

Savannah disconnected and stared out her snowy windshield. Hank’s power pressed in all around her. She felt helpless. All her possible moves, futile. Her troubled mind turned to Ian. But he was at work, and she didn’t want to get him in trouble with Mo. He hadn’t even had the job for a month yet.

Still, she started the car and headed toward the garage. Maybe she could just get in a quick talk with him. She needed an objective, rational sounding board before her brain short-circuited.

It only took her minutes to slide past Mo’s Garage at the other end of Main Street. The garage only had one bay door open and only three cars lining the drive instead of a dozen. Since Ian had started working there, Mo stayed open seven days a week to clear the backlog of repairs he’d been putting off. Mo was out front talking to customers as they picked up or dropped off their vehicles, and Ian was elbows deep in an old truck.

She sat there a moment, gnawing on her thumbnail with indecision. “What would you tell me to do?”

Her mind drifted back to their night together. To his passion, his affection, his sincerity. He’d be livid at the way Hank had treated her. He’d tell her they needed to get that ledger. Then he’d insist on being the person who stole it.

No. It had to be her. She could dig up an excuse to be in the house if Hank caught her. Ian couldn’t.

Savannah picked up her phone and dialed the police station. She expected the receptionist to answer, but Officer Rosen picked up.

“Hi, Joe, it’s Savannah.”

“Hi there. What can I do for you?”

“Is Hank there?”

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Not until this afternoon sometime, ma’am. He’s at the county board meeting.”

Yes. Those meetings lasted for hours.

“Can I leave him a message or help you with anything?” Rosen asked.

“No, thanks, Joe. I’ll catch him later.”

Savannah disconnected, her gut tight with the realization that she had to take control of this situation on her own.

Ian’s phone pulled him out of the engine of an ancient Ford F150. He saw Everly’s name and answered, “What’s up?”

“Hank just ripped Savannah a new one,” Everly said. “She just left the café, and she’s pretty shaken up.”

Ian straightened and wiped his hands on a rag. “You’re at the diner?”

“I get lunch too, slave driver.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Hank got the custody hearing moved up to Friday.”